Tiwesdæg

Tuesday - what I have been accustomed to call the second day of the week - hasn't normally much significance for me. Etymologically it is aligned to the planet Mars (dies Martis), including the war-like character for which it is commonly known. More popularly we've all heard of Mardi Gras ("Fat Tuesday"), the day before Ash Wednesday reflecting the practice of eating rich, fatty foods before the ritual fasting of the Lenten. Today's particular Tuesday strangely had for me a heightened sonority. I felt oddly confused - almost mysteriously influenced - throughout the day, especially regarding precisely what day of the week it was. I inclined to imagine it was a Saturday or Sunday; I failed to perceive it as a traditional day of the working week. Perhaps I was intoxicated by the multitude of activities which have occupied me for the past twenty-four hours, many of which were singular and involving their own idiosyncrasy.

We began the day with a protein breakfast at a local diner, positioning ourselves for an appointment at 9:30 am for manis and pedis - a trifling excess to which we have become accustomed with age. Afterwards I had a meeting with my audiologist to consider the next course of action.  She and I engaged in a prolonged discussion of the types of devices available, the anticipated effect of them and a general discussion of what in the industry is labeled a "disease" (hearing loss). We settled upon a brand new production of the model I had been experimenting with for the past couple of weeks. The overriding persuasion for me is the intention to avoid regret six months from now when I will be removed from the compensating source.

Following this sequence of performances I was manifestly drained.  I returned home, muted and weary. For the better part of an hour I snoozed upon my large green leather chair.  When I awoke I was duty bound to go bicycling - for exercise and to cherish the agreeable springtime weather unfolding on the country fields roundabout. I had as well a lingering desire to drive my new automobile but I confined that pleasure until later when I resolved I could kill two birds with one stone - which is to say, drive and go grocery shopping.

On my routine cycling jaunt I encountered friends with whom I stopped to chat. They gossiped about the winter activity of themselves and mutual colleagues.  The lengthening day was proving to be exceptionally pleasant. The billowing white clouds afforded a unique picture. By degrees I am reacquainting myself with home territory.  The burdensome issues which have predominated the past month are gradually thinning.